The Courtship of Hungary
by enucleate.muse
Summary: It was Austria who held Hungary's heart, while it was Prussia who held her secrets near. One man was her best friend, the other her true love.


**Beta Reader:** A huge thank you to **thessilian** for beta reading this piece for me and for helping me make it into something better than I could have hoped for! You freaking rock girl!  
**Other notes**: Written as part of hetalia_het Christmas exchange and is dedicated to **usagiasakura!**  
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**I

One of Austria's earliest discoveries was that most famous artists and composers accredited their inspiration after a woman; it was said that they were their muses. Austria never understood the relevance, until he met _her. _

The fire in Hungary's eyes first caught his attention; the mystery of her strange smile immediately followed. She was _untamed_ by the standards of his culture. A free spirit whose love of life rivalled her passion for battle.

Hungary was a symphony unwritten, an opera unsung. When her green eyes-unbidden and without apology-met his own, Austria knew that only he could transcribe her heart.

II

Hungary's secret had become Prussia's own. It had never been his intention to reveal the truth behind her unconscious _facade._ Hungary sincerely believed that she was a boy, and for a time Prussia believed it too.

The truth revealed itself in the most unexpected fashion and with it, everything changed. Suddenly all Prussia could notice was Hungary's unique _muscles_; the strangely beautiful shape of her hips, the definition of her powerful legs and the way her lips quirked whenever she smiled.

He never questioned his vows of chastity or loyalty to the church until he discovered Hungary's secret. Now it was all that stood between him and everything he believed.

III

It was music that first drew Hungary to Austria. The talented musician was nothing like the boys she both played and fought with while growing up. Austria was different; serious, quiet and filled with the mystery of unspoken legends.

His fingers danced across the white and black keys of his piano as the notes he played spoke of things only her heart understood. Blue eyes met her own and suddenly the axis of her heart shifted. In that moment Hungary knew she had experienced perfect beauty.

"Teach me," she whispered.

"I will teach you all I know," he said with a hint of a smile. Together their fingers caressed the ivory and ebony keys of the piano.

Their souls intertwined as the music played on.

IV

With Hungary words were not necessary. A single glance, a twitch of her full lips and all was expressed. Her music was in her smile, in the sound of her laughter; the way her fingers would brush against his own.

Friendship was a rare commodity and love even more so, but Hungary made it feel so natural that Austria often wondered how he had survived without her in his life. Through the budding of their relationship his once fading kingdom began to flourish again. His star was rising and Austria could not imagine anyone else he wanted to share it with than her.

With a symphony in one hand and a ring of gold in the other, the staunch musician offered his heart and soul to the one who was his muse.

V

"I'm marrying Austria."

Three simple words (technically four, as his brother West would have pointed out) and Prussia's world came undone.

"You're marrying that pathetic pansy?"

Five little words and the battle royal began.

Prussia used to live for moments like these; where the rise of clever words-sharp as barbs-and tempers flared. Hungary was beautiful when she was content, but was absolutely stunning when angered.

Prussia was drowning and no amount of teasing, vicious commentary or snide remarks could save him now.

"What do you care? It's not like your getting married!"

No, she was the one crossing that line, and it was almost too much for Prussia to bear.

"You can do better, Liz."

His words were soft, honest and more pleading than he would have liked.

"Why can't you just be happy for me?" she asked.

Prussia could lie to anyone, but he could not lie to her. He left without another word spoken.

Alone in his home, Prussia silently wept for the first time since the passing of his mentor and dearest friend Fredrick the Great. He never wept again.

VI

Hungary looked every bit like the lady she never imagined she would become. Her wedding gown was opulent; her hair covered with the finest satin, and her hands filled with the bouquets of freshly picked flowers from the gardens.

Green eyes stared into a vast mirror as memories crashed against her thoughts. Hungary missed the innocence of her childhood, and feared the future that lay ahead. Would anything remain of her identity once the bonds of marriage had transpired?

In front of her, the mirror revealed the silent and watchful form of Hungary's old friend and foe. With tousled pale hair, the ever present smirk on his lips and red eyes void of any walls, Prussia looked relaxed, almost disheveled, in spite of being dressed in his finest.

_You can still walk away_ his eyes invited. His words were far less subtle.

"You'd look a lot more awesome if you were in your hunting clothes," he challenged.

"I'd feel a lot more awesome if I was in them too," she confessed.

Prussia's eyes grew distant though he spoke not a word of what weighed on his mind. Some words were best left unsaid and for that Hungary was eternally grateful.

Linking her arm through Prussia's own, the former Mygar began her journey to the altar; she never looked back.

VII

It had been years since their wedding yet not a night passed without Austria watching on as Hungary silently slept.

Her visage was the epitome of beauty; dark hair cascaded against pale pillows, while a hint of a smile rested on her rose-coloured lips. He took in her perfect form now encased beneath satin sheets, before settling on her hands that were still wrapped around his waist. Calloused and worn, her fingers were nothing like his own; they were warm and inviting. Beneath her touch Austria knew love, passion and most of all what it meant to feel complete.

Marriage to Hungary was not always a dream, but it was the closest to heaven that Austria had ever known. Though it ensured the never ending presence of her childhood colleague Prussia, the dignified nation learned to embrace his blessings and take the price paid in stride. Even when the obnoxious pale-haired nation promised by all that was _awesome_ that he would one day conquer his empire and steal his wife; Austria knew better.

For all of his antics Prussia was still a romantic idealist, he respected Hungary too much to cross that line. If Austria were a lesser man he would have conceded that Prussia did it out of love for her as well.

Instead he paid heed to the pale-haired nation's presence, and the unspoken warning that he carried. Hungary was never to be taken for granted; it was one rule that Austria never bent, dodged or strayed from.

VIII

With the passing of the First World War Hungary and Austria were forced to part ways. The demise of their relationship was not caused by a lack of love or even a difference of opinion. In the end it was human politics.

It was the first time Prussia had ever seen Hungary cry. Her tears were soft and trapped between her eyelashes. She was the strongest woman he knew and the sight of her silent sorrow haunted Prussia in ways he did not dare admit.

"It's only politics," he offered.

Hungary's eyes pleaded him to continue, as Prussia's heart begged him to stop. He was selfish man, with selfish desires, but all that mattered in that moment was the need to see her smile again.

"Let them say what they want, it doesn't mean that you have to follow their rules right to the letter.

"After all we're too awesome for, red tape and stupid paperwork."

With those words Prussia knew he had sealed his own fate. The victory and opportunity that he had spent years longing for had been swept away; he only had himself to blame for it.

Hungary's eyes cleared as a sincere smile crept into her full lips.

"Thank- you," she quietly said.

"No need to thank me, I know I'm awesome," he proudly announced.

It was not the frying pan to his face that Prussia remembered, rather the gentle kiss on the cheek that followed.

He never did enjoy cheap victories anyways.

IX

Though to the mortal world their marriage was dissolved, non-existent and no longer acknowledged. Austria knew better, and for Hungary that was all that mattered.

Austria was sleeping soundly, his hair once so coiffed now a wild mess, while his expression usually so stoic bore a hint of a smile. Peaceful was not the first word that came to mind when Hungary thought of her husband, but in that moment there was no other way to describe him.

By day they had separate houses, separate bosses, separate cultures even separate societies; by night none of it mattered.

Gingerly her fingers slipped to his tussled hair as Hungary softly hummed an ancient tune she once knew when she was still a _boy_ waiting to grow into manhood. Times had changed, yet some things still remained the same. The transition was painful, but Hungary knew that time would heal all wounds, it always did.

For now she would content herself with sneaking out at all hours to Austria's home or leaving her own doors open anticipating his arrival. At times it was the only thing that kept her sane during the time-consuming days of meetings, social gatherings and political games.

Austria stirred slightly, his long fingers twitching and tightening around her waist. With a few murmured words of affection spoken in his native tongue the sleepy musician drifted back to sleep leaving Hungary content and at peace.

"Home is with those we love, not buildings," Austria once told her years ago, Hungary could not have agreed more.

X

The warm scent of burning wood and fresh baked goods filled the room, while the firewood crackled and snapped in the fireplace. While sprawled out on an opulent rug that covered the floor of Austria's living room, a tipsy Prussia watched on. With a large glass of egg nog in one hand and the other sifting through a bowl of sweets, he looked as content as the couple that lounged on the couch behind him.

Sipping on her hot cocoa Hungary gave a sigh of contentment as she rested her head against Austria's shoulder. The ageless musician gently rubbed Hungary's shoulder as he hummed along to one of Mozart's classics that played on the gramophone, while swirling a glass of fine wine with his other hand.

Never content to remain still for long, Prussia suddenly rose to his feet as he announced that prerecorded music _sucked balls._

"Real music is far more awesome," he added proudly as he sauntered off to collect his viola. Austria soon joined him, taking a seat at the grand piano.

"For once we are in agreement," he stated in stoic tones.

With an impish smirk Prussia drew his bow and tucked his chin against the viola, his expression both impish and amused.

"Of course, there is none more awesome than mine!"

Austria merely snorted in reply. Hungary rolled her eyes as she shook her head with a grin.

The gramophone fell silent as the room was filled with elegant sound of Austria's piano and the playful notes of Prussia viola. Together the two musicians serenaded Hungary well into the night as beyond the opulent windows of the living-room large snowflakes continued to lazily fall.

Despite the passing of time, some things never changed and in that instant, they hoped it never would.**  
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End file.
